Times Square Trade
by TaraJo
Summary: Beecher is a perfect mark; young, drunk and desperately in need of company. Keller is in desperate need for money. Their needs meet one night in Times Square.


**A/N: **This fic was originally written and posted for oz_magi at Live Journal. ****

TIMES SQUARE TRADE

****

Chris Keller needed money. If he didn't pay his debt to the meanest bastard in the neighborhood in the next two days, he would either have to sell his dear old Harley or take the beating. He was more comfortable taking the beating than selling his sweetheart, but even if he was beaten half-dead, he would still have to pay.

Fortunately it was the beginning of the Christmas holidays and though he couldn't scam enough money in his usual territory this time, he knew where the perfect marks lay. There would be lots of people with lots of money spending their time at Times Square, and though Chris never felt too comfortable wandering so far away from the street corners he called his own, this time he had no choice.

Times Square was crowded, as he had expected. People hurried all around, making their last-minute purchases. Tourists wandered around, watching the flashy neon lights all over the place. Chris considered whether or not he could get a better catch with a tourist, but not here, not out on the streets. He took a good look at the bars nearby, wanting to choose carefully, and tried to estimate what they might have there for him.

He walked in to a nice-looking bar and ordered a beer. He settled onto a bar stool at the end of the dim room and looked around. The bar wasn't too crowded, and he had a good feeling about a couple of patrons there. A woman sitting maybe four stools away from Chris looked like a good deal, she was maybe in her forties – older ladies always seemed to have a soft spot for a young rebel like Chris. Oh, Chris didn't have any problems seducing a man either, but ladies meant easy money.

Just as Chris planned to make a move on her, the guy sitting next to him started to speak.

"Hey, do I know you?"

"I doubt it," Chris took his beer and stood up, starting to head for the woman down the bar.

"I've seen you before, I'm sure of it," the guy insisted, grabbing Chris' arm.

Chris took another look at the man on the next stool. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with dark blond hair and sky blue eyes. He was wearing an expensive-looking suit and, by the looks of things, nursing his umpteenth martini. The guy looked as though he'd had a couple of too many already. Chris glanced at the woman, who was finishing her drink and starting to leave. Instantly, he changed his mind; he already had a perfect mark sitting next to him, so there was no use running after the woman.

He sat back on his stool and took a sip of his beer.

"Yeah? Where would that be, man? I'm sure I've never seen you before, 'cause I'd remember you." He flashed a charming smile and noticed, smugly, how the other man's eyes sparkled with more interest than before.

"Not sure yet, but it'll come to me, it will. I'm Toby, by the way."

"Chris. Waiting for someone?"

"Waiting for this shitty day to end. You?"

"Trying to have a good time today. Why is it a shitty day?"

Toby shifted his stool closer to Chris and then leaned in even closer. He had seemed a little reserved at first glance, but now he was ready to start talking and quite a lot, at that.

"I just hate being pressed, presh- pressured by my parents day after day. They never give up, it's all 'do this, do that, make a good impression, date that girl, you have to marry into a respectable family, attend these parties,' and so on. I can't stand it anymore! I'm doing my job well enough, doesn't that count for something? Why the need to dictate my private life too?"

"Marrying a good girl ain't that much of a sacrifice, is it?" Chris didn't even try to understand the problems of this obviously privileged, spoiled rich boy, not when his own problems were at an entirely different sort of level. He wasn't even interested in what kind of work this guy did for a living. It didn't matter. All that mattered was if the guy had cash on him, and it pretty much seemed like he did.

"You don't have any idea how those girls with the perfect upbringing really are," Toby sneered. "But I know, and I don't want one, but... I don't think I have a choice here."

"You don't like those girls, or you don't like girls in general?" Chris was digging now.

Toby didn't answer, just moved his empty martini glass out of the way and banged his forehead on the bar.

"Oh, come on, man, it ain't so big a deal," Chris said, amusement in his voice.

Toby abruptly stood up and muttered, "I gotta go." Grabbing his coat from the stool next to him, Toby tossed a wad of money on the bar, enough to cover both of their drinks, and then started to stumble toward the door. Chris hurried after him and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Hey, don't take it so seriously. Come on. Have you eaten? I bet you could use a bite to eat."

Toby murmured something, but didn't detach himself from Chris' grip. As they walked out the door, the freezing wind caught them full in the face. Chris zipped up his leather jacket and Toby buttoned his coat, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck.

They started toward the hot dog stand that Chris had seen earlier, before he'd gone to the bar. Hot dogs were all he could afford right now and he knew it should be his treat this time.

They went around the corner to get out of the wind so they could eat. Sensing Toby's reluctance to talk about himself any more, Chris started to talk about his motorcycle and his dream of riding it across the country some day, all the way to California.

Toby cheered up a little while talking about their dreams. He had been to California before and especially enjoyed visiting San Francisco. He had loved the laid-back athmosphere there, not to mention the way of life in the Castro District. That gave Chris the answer he hadn't gotten in the bar earlier.

"Toby, if I get the money someday to actually get out of here and drive to California, I'll take you to San Fran and to the Castro District myself." Chris chuckled, winking at Toby.

"Why, Mr Biker, I never thought you'd be my knight in shining armor, whisking me off my feet onto your iron horse and riding with me into the sunset," Toby said, smiling sweetly, batting his eyelashes in a mocking imitation of a damsel in distress.

"I think at this rate, we'll be two old farts pushing their wheeled walkers into the sunset," Chris said, laughing.

Toby started to laugh too, a soft throaty laugh; it was a sound Chris loved to hear. Suddenly, Toby grabbed Chris around the neck and kissed him hard. Chris didn't hesitate for a second and kissed him back. There was nothing tentative in the kiss, they devoured each other, and Chris started to lose his cool. Somewhere between the bar and the talk about their dreams, Toby had stopped being just a mark. Now he was something more, attractive and desirable, a man Chris had the sudden urge to protect and please the best that he could. The thought was so foreign to him that it made him feel uneasy for a fleeting moment. But when they kept kissing, Chris forgot everything else but Toby's pliable lips against his, and the overwhelming need to get closer, to claim and possess. He licked Toby's bottom lip greedily and was rewarded with an invitation into the sweet hot mouth that kissed him back fiercely, and Toby's tongue – oh-so-talented long tongue - was hosting the party in there. The throbbing in Chris' groin fueled the passion, he was drowning in the heat. He had never felt this way for a mark, hell, not for anyone for that matter.

Toby broke the kiss first, groaning huskily, and said, "Come with me."

Chris took hold of Toby's hand, intertwining their fingers and let Toby lead the way.

"Where are we going?" he asked when they had walked a couple of blocks.

"I have a room in a hotel here in the city for when I work late."

Chris nodded and followed Toby to the hotel, into the elevator and then into the spacious room. They had barely gotten inside when they started kissing again, an unsatisfied hunger burning in their veins, and they were frantic, fumbling their clothes off on their way towards the bed.

The silence of the room was soon filled with groans, gasps and needy moans, their sweat-slick bodies rubbing and thrusting against each other. Both men desperately sought more friction on their way to their craved release.

Chris had come prepared to fuck, but his climax approached rapidly, his balls tightening up and he spurted between their stomachs, with Toby following soon after.

Toby started to chuckle quietly.

"What's so funny?" Chris panted, still high from his brilliant release.

"Nothing... I just meant to ask if you had condoms and lube, but I never got that far..." Toby answered, still chuckling breathlessly. Chris joined in laughing and wrapped his hands securely around Toby. "Maybe next time."

"Yeah, maybe next time," Chris agreed and shifted to a more comfortable position, never letting go of Toby. They drifted off to sleep together, ignoring the sticky mess on their skin, warming and comforting each other.

Morning light filtering through the curtains woke Chris up. He stretched languidly and reached the other side of the bed for Toby. He frowned when he found the other side of the bed empty.

"Toby?" he called, but he didn't receive an answer. He got out of bed and went to the bathroom. No Toby there either, and when Chris looked around the room he saw all Toby's belongings were gone too. Chris felt disappointment washing over him when he realized that Toby had left him, and without a note or anything. He was also back in the same situation than he had been before meeting Toby. Chris needed money. He cursed and rubbed his face.

"Fuck!" He refused to think about Toby and how great it had been spending the night with him. Toby had been just a mark, nothing else. Probably Toby had realized it himself come morning too, and that's why he had hurried to leave before Chris woke up. Their worlds were way too far apart from each other for anything more than a scam, and now Chris had fucked that up too.

Dejectedly, he started picking up his clothes from the floor and putting them on. When he grabbed his jeans, a note with wad of bills slipped out of the pocket.

Start making the dream come true. Come and get me when you're ready to go.

On the other side of the note was a phone number.

Chris smiled. From now on, he was a man with a mission.

THE END


End file.
